Today’s Prayer to Passage continues within the ancient scriptures of the “Nag Hamadi”. This month’s spiritual devotion within these texts will be taking place between June 1 – June 30, 2017.
Today I pray, “Dear God, Today is day four of my transformational journey to the Netherlands. I will continue this prayer as the evening arrives. Thank You for this journey. Amen.”
Following my prayer, I held the closed book in my hands and opened it to reveal this passage:
“Father of All, Ennoia of the Light, dwelling in the heights above the (regions) below, Light dwelling in the heights, Voice of Truth, upright Nous, untouchable Logos, and ineffable Voice, incomprehensible Father!
It is Norea who cries out to them. They heard, (and) they received her into her place forever. They gave it to her in the Father of Nous, Adamas, as well as the voice of the Holy Ones, in order that she might rest in the ineffable Epinoia, in order that might inherit the first mind which had received, and that might rest in the divine Autogenes, and that she (too) might generate herself, just as she also has inherited the living Logos, and that she might be joined to all of the Imperishable Ones, and speak with the mind of the Father.
And she began to speak with the words of Life, and remained in the presence of the Exalted One, possessing that which she had received before the world came into being. She has the great mind of the Invisible One, and she gives glory to Father, and she dwells within those who […] within the Pleroma, and she beholds the Pleroma.
There will be days when she will behold the Pleroma, and she will not be in deficiency, for she has the four holy helpers who intercede on her behalf with the Father of the All, Adamas. He it is who is within all of the Adams, possessing the thought of Norea, who speaks concerning the two names which create a single name.”
—NAG HAMADI SCRIPTURES
The dynamics have changed. I ended yesterday’s post having not yet ventured out for the Friday evening before me. I write today from a very different perspective, a very different view point. I left the hotel last evening around dinner time. It was approximately 7:00 p.m. I stepped into the De Pijp hotspot hub of sorts. There is a little grouping of restaurants about a ten-minute walk from my hotel. I walked into that hub and positioned myself in a fresh little restaurant called “The Watering Hole”. I enjoyed a dinner of fish and chips and two colas. The bartenders were charming and confident. Wonderful hosts. A song came on the playlist. I overheard the bartender say how much he detests “house music”. This playlist was American. And it reminded me a bit of home, which I liked. The song that played as I was about to ask for my check was by Cake: Going the Distance. The lyrics are: “He’s going the distance. He’s going for speed. She’s all alone. All alone in her time of need.” I told the bartender as he was bringing me my bill for the dinner that the reason why I had such a huge smile on my face was because I love that song. He smiled a “We don’t like to admit it, but we love when we impress the silly Americans” smile.
I texted my mother: “I’m still here, eating. Clean, hip bar in a super-trendy neighborhood (De Pijp), which is thankfully a stone’s throw from my hotel because I could have dinner at a different place every night. It’s Friday here, so the neighborhood is hopping like downtown Minneapolis (only no skyscrapers, ha!). I had fish and chips and a Fritz “kola” (like a Coke). It’s a chill place. I wish I was with a boyfriend, but eh, you get what you get.”
She texted me back: “Sounds great! Good people watching. Enjoy these moments, even without a boyfriend. They are your moments, and should be celebrated.”
She was right. As mothers tend to be right in these communications. I departed the hip Cake-playing restaurant and walked up the street, about to go back to my hotel. I passed out of the grouping of restaurants and nearly cleared any temptations to turn around and go back. And then… I turned around and went back.
I turned straight around and went back to the busiest bar, the one on the corner as I entered the hotspot. It was called “Flamingo”, I think. Music was playing loudly enough to hear it from the sidewalk. The doors were open, and there were tables lining the restaurant along the street. The place was packed with evening goers, mainly the Monday – Friday work scene locals, finally out for a night on the town. There was a loft, and it was empty. So what did I do? I walked straight in and towards the stairs, up to the loft where I found a seat overlooking the balcony. I sat there, no drink in hand, only me in a chair, for approximately 30 minutes. I people watched. I took a video on my phone. I snapped some photos. It was independently epic.
And then, I exited, as I was starting to feel bad for having not purchased anything. The bar back had already cleared the empty pint glass that I positioned in front of myself when I first was seated. It was time for me to mosie on. I walked all the way through the grouping of restaurants, of which there were about a dozen, to the other side of the block to a restaurant called Krull. It was nearly empty, quiet. There were two bartenders who appeared to be starting their closing ceremonies for the evening wrap up. By this time, it was approximately 10:30 p.m. I asked one of the bartenders if they were still serving. He said they were — with a delightfully friendly grin. I timidly asked, “What about coffee?” He answered back, “Of course!”
As I sipped on my coffee and had a casual and enjoyable conversation with the two ultra-friendly bartenders — who joked with me about being an American and dealing with our new President elect — I was approached by a few people in a short time frame of about 45 minutes. One man walked directly up to me and asked which state I was from in the United States. “Minnesota?” I answered with the inflection of a question being asked, as if to say, “Have you heard of it?” He popped back, “Oh, Minnesota! Prince is from there, or was from there. May he Rest In Peace.” I replied, “Yes. We miss him.”
Then, next to me, to my left, were seated two young women from Italy. I made small talk with them. The woman seated directly beside me was living in Amsterdam temporarily on a student Visa, studying audio visual broadcasting. The bartender slid over to whisper into my ear, “I only study visual.” I giggled, “That was fast!” “That was fast!”, he said.
And then, seemingly from out of the blue, a young man approached me on my right-hand side. In a slightly British tone, I heard him say, “Excuse me. Did I overhear you say you are from the United States?” He sat next to me and we conversed for approximately 20 minutes. The Italian women kissed me farewell. The bartenders razzed me for talking to their local Patron with the American accent. “He’s gay, you know!” I looked to him. “Are you?” He assured me that he is very heterosexual. I asked him if he was Barney Stinson from the popular American sitcom ‘How I met Your Mother’. He teased back, “I wish I was that guy. He wears a suit, like every day. I used to wear a suit all the time when I lived in the U.K.” I learned that he was born in the United States, moved to Amsterdam with his parents when he was 14, moved to the U.K. on a solo venture 13 years ago, and returned to Amsterdam as a resident three weeks ago.
We decided to go for a walk around the city. I had already opened up to him about my ‘Biggest Audience’ calling, my interest in tarot cards (he asked me facetiously if I had packed tarot cards in my suitcase when he learned of my spiritual leanings), my blog, and the fact that I frequently have a bundle of spiritual dynamics at play. He opened up about his upcoming business venture and investment, his interest in cars and motorcycles, his depth of capacity to love, and his interest in business and financial stability. The bartenders teased us incessantly as we walked out the door together. Never looking back.
We did walk around the city. Until the sun came up. We walked over to the Rijksmuseum where the ‘I amsterdam’ sign resides. He grabbed my phone and told me to climb up onto one of the giant letters so he could take my photograph. The entire night was like this. A bit of a fairytale. Absolutely unfounded and unexpected. The last thing I was expecting as the evening was drawing to a close at the local bar/cafe. The sun came up as we meandered through the canal-colored streets of Amsterdam. The birds greeted the day. It was all a dream, right? No. It was real.
We napped together mid morning and awoke around 2 p.m. He went home to attend to business venture details and asked if he could take me out later that evening. I accepted, unsure of what in the world I was getting myself into, already knowing I had already gotten myself into something. Something special, even if only for a day. I slept a couple of more hours and awoke to shower, dress and primp… so to speak (I’m not a lady known to commonly primp). He texted me. I texted him. It was romantic and sweet. We met up again for a chill night out on the town. He took me to some of his favorite bars and local hangouts. It felt like I was on a date. Hmmmm. Something I had spoken as a desire into the Universe only 24 hours prior. And here he was. I couldn’t believe my abundance of manifested luck. I was on cloud nine.
I rode on the back of his bicycle as he wheeled us through the city. He took my hand and we walked, hand-in-hand like a couple. We stopped at the popular “Skinny Bridge” for a romantic staring and taking in the moonlight. We searched and searched and searched for a place with his favorite Dutch late-night food. It became a running joke. As we found a place with good late-night food, the service had just closed for the night. We sat at a posh lounge that reminded us of something from out of The Great Gatsby. I reminded him that I lived in Saint Paul, Minnesota — approximately three blocks from the classic brownstone home of the author of The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald. It was that kind of night. Synchronicity in our conversations. Serendipity. Smoothness all around. There was electricity. And there was definitely chemistry. Oooo. There was chemistry. His sense of humor bounced off of mine in a sweet and glorious little interplay. I heard him say, as though thinking out loud, several times, “Mind blowing.”
A random man with a Dutch accent approached us and asked, “Are you two a couple? You would be a wonderful couple.” It was that kind of night. We found ourselves looking at each other and smiling… a lot. It seemed fated. Let’s be clear; it was fated. Justly, for what it was, in the moment. Eternity is now.